


Vapor

by lovemuppet



Series: Minor Gods [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barbarian King Dean, Hades - Freeform, It's okay though, M/M, Main Character Death, Mentions of Orgies, Multi, Persphone - Freeform, also though mentions of body worship, minor god castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemuppet/pseuds/lovemuppet
Summary: Human lives were incredibly short, and their perceptions greatly limited.Castiel suspected that Dean loved him.Would even wager that Dean loved him with all his human soul. As impressive as his soul was, Castiel had him beat by a ten thousand-fold.Castiel loved him with every cosmic speck of his divine grace, everything he was, seventy thousand sweet supernovas that rocked the planet the day the king was felled in battle.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Minor Gods [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920487
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Vapor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepyvixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyvixen/gifts).



> sleepyvixen asked and got the gears turning so I figured, why not one more story about minor god Cas and barbarian king Dean?
> 
> I post things on my tumblr too:  
> https://haybibiboi.tumblr.com
> 
> Can be read as a stand-alone but why would you?

Human lives are incredibly short. Even if Dean the King of the Barbarians had lived to be an old man, he would have, at most 40 years. What was that to a god but a vapor?

No one would notice if Castiel, the god of kings, a minor god of Olympus retreated north for nothing more than a yawn in time. Even if it meant that while Dean was alive, there were no great kings in Greece. No mortal men would be blessed.

It was a sacrifice Castiel made gladly.

Human lives were incredibly short and incredibly difficult, Castiel was coming to understand. Difficult especially for nomadic people like these barbarians. They raised and moved livestock and there was no true army to protect them. Everyone fought to protect each other. The able men and women circled around children, the sick, the animals, and fought off whole legions under the leadership of their king. Castiel understood why Dean had called so loudly to him that day out in that blood-drenched field in Delphi.

Dean was no mere king. He was a god: a father, a mother, a brother, a sister. He was everything to his people. He shined like a beacon in the darkness of their mortal lives. He was the staff their shepherds held. He was that for all of them. 

Dean celebrated the victories of his people. On those nights, the king’s bed was a tangle of limbs and laughter, smelling of sweat, sex, and spirits. Dean and Castiel both together treating the carnal buffet in front of them like a pitched battle of lust.

A war where everyone won.

Those nights were pinpricks of absurd joy like stars that shone in a moonless sky; that shone against the tragedies of mortal life.

Dean felt those losses keenly. Every death grieved him like a mother who lost a child. Late into the sleepless nights, he would pull Castiel into bed with him, running his fingers over Castiel’s divine body. He tried to memorize each dip and rise of the muscles that made Castiel walk and talk and live with him on this mortal plane. He would kiss whatever part of god came close enough to his mouth, muttering low to himself in his native tongue.

Muttering words Castiel pretended not to understand.

Human lives were incredibly short and miserably tragic. And _yet_. Dean wasted time caring for Castiel. Made sure he ate with him.  
Made sure he was pleasured.  
Made sure he was comfortable.

As if it mattered. _Truly mattered._  
As if Human food nourished the god.  
As if human men or women could do half as much for him as basking in the light of this righteous man.  
As if Castiel could ever be comfortable as seconds ticked on and their time together neared an end.

Human lives were incredibly short, and their perceptions greatly limited.  
Castiel suspected that Dean loved him.  
Would even wager that Dean loved him with all his human soul. As impressive as his soul was, Castiel had him beat by a ten thousand-fold.  
Castiel loved him with every cosmic speck of his divine grace, everything he was, seventy thousand sweet supernovas that rocked the planet the day the king was felled in battle.

Earthquakes rocked the continent. Somewhere in Naples, a volcano erupted. The open field where Dean’s people fought off an attack from some foreign faction, some unfamiliar barbarian army, split in two and the enemy fell to die at the feet of Hades himself.

When all was quiet again, Dean’s people found his body. Castiel watched bitterly as his people wept and wailed and thrashed about like babes who’ve lost sight of their mother. He watched as they tore down the limbs from nearby trees to build a large pyre. Watched them toss the beautiful husk of his beloved king on top like kindling. He looked away as they lit the base.

This could not be borne.

Castiel plunged himself deep into the pits he tore in the earth, the holes to the underworld.

It was dark and Castiel, for the life of him could not see. This darkness felt both empty and yet _not_. Billions of human souls slumbered quietly in this space. “who is there?” asked a woman, the room lit around her, high vaulted marble ceilings cast in an eerie glow.

“Persephone.” Castiel bowed reverently for the Queen of the Underworld. He thanked Zeus that he had met her first.

The light around them brightened a bit. “It is I. Is that you Castiel?” She looked up at Castiel’s handy work. “Little god, you have dug a very large hole.”

Castiel buried his hands in his fur to warm them against the biting cold nothing of the underworld. “The king. _My King_ , I have come for him.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. I have come to take him home.”

Persephone laughed, her lustrous hair shaking behind her in waves like barley in the wind. “My little god, he is home. This is where _all_ great kings come. You know this.” She smoothed her robes and set her jaw pointedly. “You make as many men into kings as you please and my husband gets them when you are finished.”

“I was. _Not_. Finished.”

Persephone laughed but not unkindly. “Would you ever be?”

“No.”

“Then it seems as though we should get moving. Hm?” She took Castiel by the hand and pulled him down a corridor, the light following them, illuminating the path ahead of them. “My husband is busy trying to sort out your fit, I’m sure he won’t miss _one_ soul. And if he’s quite angry, I’m sure that between the two of us, we may convince him. “

Hades, the unspeakable all-seeing god, did catch Castiel of course and he was quite angry.

As Castiel and Hades argued over technicalities and the finer points of lore, Persephone watered her mint plant. She spoke up suddenly plucking off some of the leaves, “Husband, _all_ beings are made stupid with love. I am no exception. Nor are you. Nor is this little God or his human.”

Hades opened his mouth to speak and then sighed. “This once. Just this once. But he cannot go back to the humans. If you want him so badly, you must have him with you until the sun stands still. Do you hear me, little god? I never wish to see his stupid face here again.” He gestured to the door. “He is there. Take him.”

Castiel opened the door, and their Dean stood. He threw his arms around Castiel. “where am I?” He asked.

“Hell. Are you ready to leave?”

He looked doubtful. “and go where?”

Castiel hesitated. “You cannot go back to your family. Your people. Hades has agreed to give you to me, but you can never go home.”

Dean shook his head laughing. “Cas. Where you are, my friend, I am home.”

“But your people-“

“will have another king. A better king.” Castiel scoffed and Dean smiled. “One that won’t die over a few murdered horses.”

“It was very stupid of you.”

“Yes. I know.” A pointed cough from the God of the Dead released the two from their devoted staring.

Human lives were short, tragic, and limited.

But Gods could last eons.

  



End file.
